


Dizzy, Tasty, Dark

by motelsamndean (whalesandfails)



Series: Spntober Fics [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:04:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21530233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalesandfails/pseuds/motelsamndean
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Spntober Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515290
Kudos: 3





	Dizzy, Tasty, Dark

The cabin was dimly lit from the inside, just the light from the fire illuminating the small space. From the window a small double bed was seen with a patchwork quilt adorning it that was frayed at the edges. A small kitchenette stood against one wall, with an island with two beat up metal chairs. The final wall housed two doors: one to the outside, and one to the small washroom. The two men inside looked like they were too large, giants playing in a doll’s house. 

“Let me, Sam.” 

“No.” Sam shot back. “It’s not that much blood.” 

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Dean just huffed out a breath, and again rooted through the empty cabinets. They were miles from Baby and her med kit, and even further from the nearest hospital or walk-in. Sam’s blood was running fast down his side, staining his flannel and then his jeans. Dean tried to do the math, the absorption of the cotton and denim versus the amount of blood Sam could reasonably lose. He lost his train of thought every time he tried to gauge the amount by looking at the wet fabric. 

“Fuck this.” Dean said. He went to the quilt and tore strips along the multiple seams, laying the fragments down beside him. “Sorry, granny.” He muttered under his breath.  
He stripped Sam of his shirts in one fluid movement, a few buttons flying off and dinging against furniture and floor. Dean smirked, and avoided Sam’s gaze, knowing the scowl he’d find even with his eyes closed. Sam had a way of searing himself to Dean’s lids like that. 

With all the layers gone, he eyed the wound. He ran the chunks of fabric under the tap – no hot water – and pressed it to Sam’s side. Sam hissed from the chill and Dean’s fingers tenderly touching his skin, he tried not to think of the sensation while simultaneously storing it for later. 

Dean pulled back his hand to stare at the scrapes on his brother’s side. “Goddamn, how many claws did this thing have?”

“Eighteen,” Sam gasped out. 

Dean just shook his head. “Well, at least they’re not deep.” He watched the blood well up to the surface, dabbed at them again with the stained scrap of cloth. “Don’t even need stitches – well, maybe that one could use ‘em – I’ll just wrap you up tight for now, okay, Sammy?” 

Sam nodded. “Feel dizzy, Dean.”

“Okay, okay.” Dean wound his arms around Sam, knotting strips of the quilt together as he went, laying them flat against his side. “You lie down.” He paused, watched as Sam completely disobeyed his order, swayed on his feet. He shoved Sam a little towards the bed, shook him out of his painful stupor. “Lie down right now. I’ll see if there’s something to eat.”


End file.
